


Compliment

by hiddenlongings



Category: Criminal Minds, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Murder, Pining, Serial Killers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bodies that are showing up on NYC streets are all Numbers.  The problem is Finch and Reese have no way of knowing which Number, out of a growing list, is going to be the next victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bite Your Tongue

_You are being watched._

_The government has a secret system, a machine that spies on you every hour of every day._

_I know because I built it._

_I built the machine to detect acts of terror but it sees everything._

_Violent crimes involving ordinary people, people like you._

_Crimes the government considered 'irrelevant'._

_They wouldn't act, so I decided I would._

_But I needed a partner, someone with the skills to intervene._

_Hunted by the authorities, we work in secret._

_You'll never find us, but victim or perpetrator, if your numbers up...we'll find you._

* * *

478 12 5463

050 34 3432

050 62 9710

485 89 3423

318 66 2319

The numbers streamed through the Machine’s databanks.  These five were just one of many in a growing list. They were the first to appear.  The numbers were growing but the rate of these appearing social security numbers as well as the relatively small grouping in New York meant that the numbers were to be assigned to the irrelevants list and sent on to Admin.

 

The Machine was moments from calling the phone number that the Admin had provided to give him the numbers that he placed so much importance on when a sudden blip in the system erased the first number from the list. One of the thousands of security cameras that the Machine had access to had noted his sudden demise.

April 14 02:16

Ryan’s Bar Security Camera 3

The security footage is blurry due to both poor technology and the dark shadows that night time even in New York threw over everything.  But it was not so poor that the Machine’s facial recognition software couldn’t pull into focus and identify the man that had just stumbled drunkenly into the alley.

Jordan Fulker, Social Security Number 478 12 5463.

Construction Worker

Alcoholic

Divorced Wife

 

3 Drunk and Disorderly Charges

 

1 Charge of Sexual Assault

 

The man could barely keep his feet as he fumbled for the zipper on his jeans and he had to lean a broad shoulder up against the rough concrete of a building before he could manage it.  The man stayed still for 30 seconds before he shook his penis free of any remaining liquid.

The footage was too grainy and lag filled to catch what happened next but suddenly the man’s body jerked hard before he could rezip his pants and he fell to the ground in a seizure of movement that the Machine identified as likely caused by a Taser though the camera couldn’t pick up the thin wires in the shades of gray that the alley walls cast.

The addition of another shadow to the cameras was the first sign that the Machine had that the perpetrator had stayed after delivering that powerful electric shot to Fulker.  The shadow shortened and shortened until the Machine caught its first glimpse of the shooter.

The garbage receptacle next to the perpetrator placed their height at close to 5’ 8”. The dark cargo pants and thick sweater with its hood pulled up made facial recognition impossible.  The race gender of the attacker remained in question.

The perpetrator stepped up the downed man and kicked him with a sneakered foot.  The chance of fractured ribs was at 89% because of the force of that kick, yet the Taser seemed to have done it’s job because Fulker tried and failed to roll out of the way of the next impending blow.

This next kick hit the man square in the stomach and the Number curled defensively around his stomach even as his head turned and he vomited up the contents of his stomach.  

The Machine picked up the change in stance that meant the perpetrator was tired of kicking their victim and was ready to continue with the assault in a different vein.  The dark colored shoe flailed out again but this time caught up against Fulker’s shoulder and stepped down hard at an angle until the man whose chest was visibly gasping for air as he fought to stay conscious against the pain of his damaged ribs and stomach had to turn onto his back and meet the attackers gaze.

The camera now had a better angle on the person who was assaulting him but it still couldn’t pick up any sort of identifying features.  The perpetrator’s face was covered with some sort of gauze from forehead to below the neck.  

Fulker gave a futile swing of his arm up at the descending face but the attacker knelt down with brutal force on his wrist and smashed it into the detritus of broken glass of the alley that they were scuffling in.

Fulker’s attacker was now crouched low over his body with one knee on his obviously broken wrist and a shoe still on his shoulder so that he was firmly pinned to the ground by their weight.

Fulker’s struggles weakened further when the attacker drew a thin strap from one their  pockets and neatly tightened it around his neck.

The dull gleam of a belt buckle made it clear what this final weapon was and the Machine continued to watch as it was tautened to a strangling pressure that made Fulker claw at it with his free hand in a futile effort to loosen it’s deadly grip on his throat.

The Machine had seen hundreds of strangulations, both erotic and murderous, it had no opinion on them aside from studying the efficacy of this form of attack.  Human’s generally lost consciousness in a matter of minutes and Fulker was no different.  

Even as he went limp and ceased to struggle his attacker followed through with their attack until Fulker’s body had completely shut down.  Holding the choke hold for longer than necessary.  The Machine calculated that the man was dead within 5 minutes but his attacker kept up the pressure for an additional two.

That sort of sustained pressure even with the assistance of the belt in choking spoke to strength and force of will.

The belt was unwrapped, with difficulty, from Fulker’s swollen throat and his murderer tossed it aside carelessly with no more apparent thought then if they had been discarding an empty gum wrapper.

The hooded head swung towards the entrance to the alley.  The Machine also caught the camera from across the streets view.

April 14th 02:33

Street Camera 332

A burst of people erupted from Ryan’s Bar.  Several scantily clad women huddled together in a giggly drunken mass as they leaned against each other to stay upright on their skyscraper heels.

The camera was of better quality but even it’s improved iris couldn’t see anything but a tall slender shadow where the alley’s entrance lead to and the women impaired as they were would have had no better luck than the camera.  They continued on their way obliviously.

April 14th 02:34

Ryan’s Bar Security Camera 3

The murderer’s face had turned away from the entrance to the alley, apparently their concerns of discovery had been relieved and they were once more focused on Fulker’s motionless body.

They swept a broken beer bottle out of their way with the side of a shoe before they once more knelt down.  This time they didn’t put any weight on Fulker and instead one hand was on the ground to balance them and the other reached into another pocket and pulled a switchblade and a small packet out of its depths.

Both hands were covered in some sort of slim, tight fitting fabric and gave no further clues.

The blade glittered in the dim light as the perpetrator hunched over their victim.  Hunched shoulders and the awkward crawl forward made them appear vulture like.  The hand that had been balancing them suddenly reached up and wrenched Fulker’s lax jaw open wide as they leaned in with the gleaming knife.

Their arm sawed back and forth vigorously for several seconds before something seemed to give way and the perpetrator withdrew their knife, which no longer gleamed but instead dripped dark liquid, and tossed it so it lay next to the belt.

Those dark fingers probed into the cavity delicately before they pulled Fulker’s severed tongue out of his mouth.  Fulker’s murderer studied the piece with apparent fascination for several minutes, probing the muscle and turning it in their hands until they had apparently satisfied all of their curiosity.

The small muscle was tossed on Fulker’s chest for a moment while his murderer fumbled with the packet for a moment before revealing it’s contents.  The packaging joined the belt and the knife as they shook their wrist until the condom unfurled.

Picking up the tongue again the perpetrator slipped it into the thin latex before neatly knotting the entire arrangement so no fluids would be able to escape its encasement.  This neat little package was then shoved none too gently back into Fulker’s mouth.

They moved his jaw up and down a number of times to simulate chewing before the killer seemed to lose all patience and they abruptly released Fulker’s face and got to their feet.

They delivered one final vicious kick to Fulker’s ribs before pulling one final item out of their pocket.

The handkerchief was used to meticulously clean all of the blood that the murderer could find on their hands and clothing before it too was dropped in the neat pile of deadly accoutrements and they turned on their heels and walked easily from the camera’s view and directly into a small blind spot that could have led any number of directions that the Machine could not follow.

The hours passed and the Machine kept a miniscule portion of it’s attention on the camera that had had a murder laid out in front of it so perfectly.

The camera’s time read 0450 when Ryan’s bartender (Tim Gurkin 050 34 5543) wandered out to the alley with a bag of trash in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Gurkin fumbled both in his haste to pull his cell from a pocket and the Machine easily picked up the 911 call.

Operator: 911 What’s your emergency?

Gurkin: Oh man, I found a body.

Operator: Are they alive?

 

Gurkin: I’m gonna go with no.

 

Operator: Is anyone else there?

 

Gurkin: Nope. Just me and dead guy.

 

Operator: May I have your location and name please.

 

Gurkin: Uh. Uh. Oh man is that his tongue?

 

Operator: Sir please.

 

Gurkin: Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m outside of Ryan’s Bar on 14th Ave. My uh my names Tim Gurkin.

 

Operator: Police are being sent to your location. Please stay on the line until they arrive.

 **  
**The Machine continued to listen to the phone call even as it marked Fulker’s Social Security number as deceased before dialing the Admin’s number.  His preferred call time was between 0830 and 0900 hours but the severity of the situation meant that Admin would prefer to be contact immediately with this list.

**He picked up with his usual swiftness.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right guy's I hope you like this new story I'm working on. I've got a lot planned for it so I hope you guys can be as excited as I am about the whole thing. 
> 
> On a different note. I know nothing about New York or police procedure so I've done my best. (I looked up social security number prefixes for goodness sakes) but if something's off I'm super sorry.


	2. Food for Thought

Carter gave her eyes a rough scrub as she tried to clear the haze of early early morning from them.  Third similar murder in as many weeks and she was ready to smack the next reporter who asked saccharine sweet if she might have any leads that she could give them ‘completely anonymously’.

Fusco had been out all week.  His son had been in and out of surgery to get his tonsils out and Fusco had taken all of the time he could to take care of him.  

Down a partner Carter had been working double time to try and make up for Fusco’s absence.  She didn’t begrudge him the time off, but she could wish that it had come at a different time.

The black SUV that pulled up to the crime scene was the cherry on top of her shit sunday. Her Captain had been threatening to call up the F.B.I. if she couldn’t figure out who was killing the fine upstanding rapists of NYC.  

Looks like he had followed through on that particular puff of hot air.

Carter stepped forward to shake hands with the group of people who had piled out of the SUV.  She hid her shiver of unease when she shook the first man’s hand.

“Hi, Detective Carter?”

“That’s me.  Can I help you?”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. This is SSA Rossi, Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss. We’re with the F.B.I.’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Carter struggled to keep her expression professional as she shook everyone’s hands and nodded them towards the crime scene.

“Body’s this way.  Looks like third one of its type in three weeks.  All of them have obviously been set up in advance and are carefully staged.”

“Why do you say that?” Reid’s face was cocked with curiosity as he stepped towards the body with something resembling eagerness.

“Strangled with a thin belt. Pile of murder weapons and accessories thrown next to the body. Plus the uh most recognizable piece.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, body part cut off and tied into a condom before they have the victim chew it to bits.”

Morgan glanced at his phone before he met her eyes.

“Looks like the first two were a tongue and a finger.  What did the unsub slice off this time?”

Carter rubbed the back of her neck as she turned to look at the body.

“Foreskin.”

“Hmm, the unsub is escalating.” Reid said absentmindedly as he stepped closer to the body. “Each successful kill and getaway making them more confident.”

“Yeah well. it looks like these are planned to the T. It’s amazing that the unsub can commit these murders in such a close span without slipping up.” Prentiss added and crouched down next to the bottom to take a closer look at the pile of discarded accoutrements.

“Is the victimology staying the same.”

“Yeah.  This is Eric Lark, convicted of statutory rape in 2005.  Served a couple of months in prison before he was released back into society.”

“Hmm…” Reid didn't even look up at this recital and instead poked curiously at the edge of the condom wrapper so he could get a better look at it.

Carter puffed an irritating piece of hair out of her face as it frizzed and escaped it’s usually neat band.  Oh yeah two minutes in and already she was regulated to background noise.  As the team began to carefully work through the crime scene Carter felt her back pocket buzz as her phone signaled a text.

She slipped it easily out and looked at the screen.

_Camera footage from corner grocery._

Ah Finch. Carter thought as she pinched a couple of fingers on the bridge of her nose.  He and Reese had been not so slowly going nuts as the murders continued.  They didn’t seem to have the sort of focused data that she was used to them working from.  Whatever was going on that deviation from the norm was not a good thing.

Finch had given her the information she needed to get good camera angles on all three of the murders though it didn’t do a hell of a lot when she and Fusco couldn’t make out a single identifying feature of the murderer.

Slim and average height was about as far as they had gotten.  This footage was probably going to be more of the same.

Still.

“I’m going to run over to the grocery store across the street and see about getting the footage from its security camera before they decide to delete it.”

Hotchner gave her a sharp nod before he continued to write up notes as he stared intently at the bloodied jeans of the man in front of him.

Damn suits. Honestly.

As Carter stepped into the welcome coolness of the small corner store she felt her phone vibrate again.  She turned her hand over and studied the new text with some trepidation.

_BAU checks out. Could be helpful._

She snorted quietly before typing back easily.

_One man in a suit is more than enough._

Tucking her phone back into her pocket Carter stalked up to the bored looking attendant with her best smile.  

Maybe this time the tape would have some useful information on it.

* * *

* * *

 The tape was just as worthless as the other two. Finch ripped his glasses off with more force than was strictly necessary as he rubbed his eyes and fought the yawn that was threatening to erupt.  No need to add Reese’s mother henning to his list of why this was at 15 minutes to 5 AM already shaping up to be a terrible day.

Reese was sprawled in cramped discomfort on the too small loveseat with a snoozing Bear taking up all of the floorspace in front of him.

The man looked like death and Finch struggled to stay focused on the screen in front of him.  Reese’s cheeks had been steadily deepening as the weeks had piled up with no sign of an end to the numbers.  His usually clean shaven jaw line was constantly stubbled and rough as Reese tried to keep track of as many men as he could.

No matter what they did though nothing seemed to be slowing this murderer.

The Machine had been giving them a profusion of numbers all of them perpetrator’s of some sort of sexual assault.  None of them giving the slightest indication that they were committing these murders.

Finch knew he wasn’t looking much better than his partner.  The last time he had stopped for a short break a mirror had revealed hedgehog spike hair and a yellowing skin tone as he fought off sleep.

This latest murder had been just like the other two.  The man had stumbled into the alley,  although this time Lark seemed to be sober so his presence there was a bit of a mystery. Then someone off of the camera’s screen shot him with a Taser and sent the man convulsing backwards into a pile of garbage where he was ignominiously strangled and mutilated.

The killer had worn the exact same outfit.  Height matched up perfectly.  Everything seemed perfectly coordinated and designed to both be a show for the camera as well as a crime destined to remain unsolved.

Finch finally pushed himself away from the computer screen as the BAU began to carefully document everything that they could from the crime scene.  Background checks had come through with no red flags, their solve rate was impressive, and best of all they had no apparent connections to Donnelly.

Finch sent a rapid fire text to Carter as she shifted impatiently around the crime scene as the team took over.

She took his hint with gratifying quickness and Finch sent her another text.  Hopefully the BAU came in dealt with the problem and left as quickly as they had arrived.  The last thing Finch and Reese needed was another set of driven Agent’s hot on their heels.

Her reply caught him by surprise and Finch couldn’t restrain his sharp bark of laughter that had Reese fully awake and staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Finch tossed the phone and Reese’s eyes crinkled in a quick smile as he read the text history.

At least they could both still smile at the small things.

“I see Carter’s as sharp as ever.”

“A razor’s edge.” Finch agreed as he got stiffly to his feet.

Bear got to his own feet and circled Finch eagerly. Bowing low in a stretch and yawning before regaining his balance and wagging his tail hopefully.

“I believe that Bear has the right idea Mr. Reese.  A walk sounds pleasant.”

Reese slid to his own feet, lifting his hands above his head in a stretch that shared a remarkable resemblance to Bear’s before he smiled his agreement.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The wave of humidity that hit the trio as they stepped out of the door seemed to immediately take the starch out of both pairs of suits and left Bear panting heavily.

“It’s not even 5:30 and the city’s already starting to melt.”  Reese shook his head disbelievingly.

“Perhaps we should return to the library.” Finch said quietly, but even as he turned to go back Reese caught his elbow.

“I think we’re both ready for a break, Finch.  We can’t keep up this pace.”

“I’m aware of that.” Finch snapped before he sighed and rubbed his fingers through his hair again. “Apologies. It’s just frustrating. We’re making no real progress and it feels like I am missing something.”

Reese nodded his head agreeably and began to steer the older man towards the diner that they both liked.

“Some iced coffee and Eggs Benedict you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

“I think you’re vastly overstating the health benefits of diner food. And I hate iced coffee.”

“Water than, or orange juice.  Whatever you like. I’m buying.”

“But I pay you.” Finch complained mildly as he finally felt his shoulders start to loosen a little.

“You’ve got to recoup your costs at some point.”

“Yes.” Finch snarked. “Because twenty dollars will certainly make up for those Einstein letters, how silly of me.”

 


	3. Rough Landing

Hotch could tell already how much their presence was ticking off the local law enforcement. Carter had been stiffly polite, but her abrupt exit for possible footage had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The rest of the officers, all uniformed, were following the Detectives lead and answering any questions that they might have had in as few words as possible.  

The BAU would need to gain their trust and hopefully start to work together more efficiently.  The BAU had been to New York a number of times but they had never worked with Carter and Hotch could see the way the uniformed officers paid close attention to whatever she said and respectfully followed her orders.  He and the others would need that sort of personality to bring in this Unsub.  With an organized, tech savvy Unsub easily mowing through New York's sexual offenders unscathed he had little doubt that there were only two options left to them, either the Unsub was caught for this or other crimes in a matter of days or further escalation was inevitable.

Carters stellar record and dynamic personality would be a great help as long as he could get her on their side without trying to push her too far.  They would need all the help they could get to catch this Unsub.  

As he had read the files in the plane ride over Hotch had been struck by the seeming disparity that hung over these murders.

They were both coldly efficient and brutally personal. The theme remained the same throughout each crime scene with piece of individually changed evidence. The body part that was removed. No apparent trophies, just forced mastication and a small pile of murder paraphernalia. After three murders it was also perfectly evident that this killer wanted to be seen. The Unsub was obviously purposefully making these public executions into a public spectacle.

Aside from the obvious rap sheet connections none of the victims seemed to know each other either. Garcia had sifted through the depths of these men's pasts to try and find some sort of tangible connection. No shared prison cells. No shared victims. No connection to the other victims other than the barest of threads.

Reid was crouched low next to Lark's body his long legs were almost up around his ears as he dipped low and twisted his neck like some sort of gangly-limbed bird as something sparked his interest.

"Reid?"

Hotch carefully circled so that he could join the younger man.

"It's strange..."

"Strange?"

"It's just. Escalation is expected but the victims seem to almost be coming in out of order."

"You're going to have to elaborate Reid. I don't see where you're going with this."

"Fulker was charged with sexual assault after he had sex with a mentally handicapped woman. Lunst was found guilty of drugging and raping a woman at a club. There's obvious escalation there. Lark on the other hand was found guilty of statutory rape. It just seems like the Unsub isn't focusing on the type of sexual assault just the fact that they were in fact charged with something."

"I see your point but where are you going with this?"

"It just made me think that maybe the Unsub doesn't know  _what_ they did.  Just that they were charged with some form of sexual assault."

"Yet." Rossi interjected as he sauntered over to the pair of them; playing his usual devil's advocate. "Fulker was literally caught with his pants down and the Unsub didn't touch his genitals.  That has to mean something."

Reid huffed hard and puffed a long lank of hair out of his as he looked up and up at Rossi.

"Well that was the Unsubs first kill.  Maybe they're going through some sort of checklist of human mutilation. Genital mutilation is a pretty big first step.  Maybe too far." 

Hotch nodded along with what Reid was saying but his eyes narrowed when he turned back to the body.

"What brought that thought on?  Did you see something?"

"Yeah.  I know that they removed Larks foreskin.  Fulker's tongue was removed, and Lunst lost a finger.  None of those things seem to fit with their crimes but I was looking at Larks hairline here."

Reid pointed a gloved finger at the victim's neck.  Hotch had to place a couple of hands on the concrete and tilt his head nearly upside down before he caught sight of what had grabbed Reid's attention.

In the dim light of the early morning he could just barely make out the faint mark that seemed to blend in to Lark's dark hairline and the purpled skin of his swollen neck.

"Is that a candle?"

Reid nodded as he let his gloved fingers move some dark hair aside so that Hotch could get a better look at it.

"Bruised onto the back of his neck.  If the Unsub did this they would've had to do this while they strangled him."

"Do you think this is something new?  An addition to the ritual that the Unsub has added to the murder?"

"No." Reid shook his head. "I saw similar bruising in the pictures of the other two victims necks that the coroner provided us, it just wasn't as defined.  The Unsub is getting better at strangling their victim's so the image is becoming more clear."   

"Or just getting better at Tazing them unconscious. What sort of symbolism comes to mind with candles?"  Hotch hid a wince as he immediately realized his mistake and Reid's face lit up a little.

"Memento mori.  Roughly translated from Latin as remember that you will die.  It's an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death.  It goes back a long ways but it really started to flourish in Europe with the onset of Christianity.  Artist's would paint still life's that represented how fleeting life was.  Rotting fruit, skulls, clocks, and candles.  Candles marked both the passing of time and emphasized an inevitable end.  Life was fleeting so people should do their very best to do good things with their lives since Heaven and Hell were eternal."

"So you're saying this candle is something along the lines of your time has run out?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

 Her eyes were narrowed hatefully as she watched the swarm of uniformed police officers and well-heeled F.B.I. Agent's swirled around Lark's body.  She let her long hair swirl in the breeze that whipped through the parking ramp letting her large sunglasses keep it from snapping her in the eyes.

None of them had been so dedicated.  Murder was apparently a step past emotional and physical ruination.  She had known that before all of this.  Here though was proof set before her eyes that they were more interested in avenging a rapist than in prosecuting one.

She snapped a picture of the crime scene before she hit a quick button and turned away from the milling forms and got into her small car.  Careful to keep her skirt down and her heels from catching on the door frame. Careful to keep out of the camera's limited sweep.

A quick glance at her phone confirmed everything she needed to know before she peeled out of her parking space with a heavy foot.

_Image Sent._

 


	4. Bottle It Up

Reese forced his tightening shoulders to unclench and as they smoothed out and down he could feel the faint ache of too long clenched muscles. Nothing about the growing body count made him feel like taking a moment to relax but Finch looked as though he was going to start weaving on his feet before too much longer. He had to distract the older man somehow. Bear and some food might not be the perfect scenario but it was the best he could do at this point. John knew that being anything more than gently persistent would see Harold sending him out the door and on his way.

The murders were a problem for John to solve. Though perhaps not in quite the way that Finch thought they were. The death of an ever increasing number of sexual predators meant next to nothing to John. Reese knew that his training had irreparably twisted him and left his moral compass skewed and broken. Innocent's in danger were worth protecting, but letting someone permanently take out future problems left John breathing easy. Finch was his only guide in this new world that he had found himself in and he needed to look after his employer. 

That was perhaps his purest motive in all of this, though certainly not the only one. 

Protecting Finch had always been John's number one priority. Well perhaps not, always, but certainly since they had grown into a friendship that he hoped desperately that Finch reciprocated even the slightest bit. If he sometimes wished for more, well he knew about pushing for more than he deserved.

The victim's may have meant nothing to him but their death's were something else entirely. Finch kept him around to take care of the Number's and if he couldn't do his job there was no reason for the man not to look for help elsewhere. It would be the work of a day for Finch to leave him behind and John didn't have any sort of illusions about what would happen to him if that worst case scenario came about.

Finch patted him companionably on the arm as they neared their destination and Reese let his mouth tilt a little in a small smile. He would take what he could get and be grateful for it.

Finch lead the way into the small diner where Bear was met with a gleeful cry from one of the younger waitresses and they were gently ushered to their usual booth. Habit's were a bad thing to have in their world but the routine also brought a sense of security that Reese didn't want to take from Finch.

Finch stiffly slid into the padded seat and Bear sat down at the head of the table his eyes bright and eager. Their waitress bustled over happily clutching Bear's usual small scoop of vanilla ice cream like a rare treasure. Reese felt his eyes crinkle and thin a little at the sight. 

"Hello Marie."

"Hey guys. Can I get you your usual?"

Bear was too well trained to leap for the ice cream but Reese could see it took a great deal of self restraint for the big dog to stay seated next to the booth.

"We'd appreciate it."

"Eggs Benedict and a Apple Cinnamon Waffles coming right up. Here you go baby." 

The last was said to Bear as she gently put the small saucer at his feet before she headed off for the kitchen.

"I'll be back with your coffee and tea in a sec." She threw over her shoulder before she disappeared through a swinging door.

"I may be mistaken Mr. Reese." Finch said placidly as he smoothed down his suit and gave Bear the go ahead to eat his ice cream. "But we might be coming here a little too often."

"Here you guys go." Marie chirped as she gently lay the mugs and saucers down in front of the two men. She barely broke stride as she went passed them to greet the two men who had just walked through the door.

"Hey there! Just grab any booth or table you like and I'll come and grab your drink orders in just a sec."

Finch sipped sedately at his green tea and his lips barely moved as he murmured into the hot liquid.

"I do believe we have a bit of a problem Mr. Reese."

"Well. You're not wrong."

The small diner had a security mirror positioned on one of it's back corners that gave Reese a perfect view of the door without being too obvious. He had seen the pair walk through the door with trepidation.

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were dressed in business casual and were easing themselves comfortably into a table a couple of feet away from the elder pair. They were miles from any of the crime scenes so it was something of a nerve taxing mystery as to why they would show up here.

"In all the diner's in all the world." Reese said as he kept his posture comfortable and he sipped easily at his own steaming brew.

Marie swept up to them and pulled their heavy plates off of her tray with ease and left them alone with a wink as she strode over to take the two Agent's orders.

"All right, drinks?"

"A couple of coffee's would be great." Morgan rumbled as he leaned back against the wooden chair with a tired sigh.

"With some cream please." Reid chimed in sounding just as exhausted.

Reese cut into his waffle while Finch picked up his own fork and they ate in companionable silence as they strained their ears to hear what the two younger men were saying.

Reid winced when Morgan twisted his head sharply and his neck snapped loudly.

"You know that's not good for you."

"Well it's that or let my head keep pounding. Sleeping on that plane is damn near impossible and when I do it always leaves me with a sore neck and a throbbing head."

"Better not let Hotch know you're showing your age." Reid teased lightly before he made grabby fingers at the coffee that Marie put down in front of them with a sweet smile. Reese let an eyebrow raise as he caught sight of the four little cups of cream that Reid put in his coffee along with a heaping spoonful of sugar.

"All right fellas. What would you like for breakfast?"

Morgan glanced at the menu before looking at the waitress.

"I'd love some hash browns darling with a side of fruit."

"All right, and you?"

"If I could have some wheat toast with jam that'd be great."

"Anything else?"

Reid shook his head no and Marie swept up his little pile of empty creamers before she left them alone.

"Geeze Spence, want a little coffee with your cream?"

Reid sniffed in faux insult even as he took a rude slurp from his mug.

"Nope, this is almost perfect."

Morgan snorted as a half smirk crept up his face.

"What's it missing?"

"Hmmm...chocolate."

Reese had to fight to keep his eyebrows at an even keel as Morgan leaned into Reid's space and gave the young man a gentle kiss on the mouth.

"There you go sweet boy."

Reid's smile was broad and seemed to take up his entire face as he took another sip of his coffee.

"Not quite what I meant but you won't hear me complaining."

"Well that's a lie if I ever heard one."

Reid rolled his eyes.

"Jerk."

Marie stepped passed them and walked up to Reese and Finch with her usual easy smile.

"Hey guy's everything taste okay?"

"As always wonderful." Finch said warmly as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a bill for the waitress. "Please keep the change."

Marie's eyes gleamed as she slipped the fifty into her apron and then crouched down to pick up Bear's licked clean plate.

"Only the best for my best tippers. See you soon."

"Absolutely." Reese said with a smile as he lied through his teeth.

Finch got to his feet and Reese waited until the older man had passed him before he stood as well and a low word to Bear had the dog hard on his heels as they sauntered out of the diner.

"Well." Finch said as they strode up the stairs of the library. "At least we know why they weren't anywhere near the crime scenes. I imagine it would cost at least one of them their jobs if it was discovered that they were in a relationship."

"I still don't like it Finch we should probably steer clear of the diner until the BAU has left town. I don't need to be recognized at a crime scene."

"Of that we are in agreement. Though it will be a hardship for all involved I suppose we can make do."

"Absolutely." John said placidly. "Hot Pockets all around for dinner?"

Finch's nose wrinkled and John felt something soften in his chest. 

"Actually Mr. Reese I believe it would do us both a world of good to take the rest of the day for ourselves. I have a few errands I need to run and I'm sure you do as well. As you say there's no use in running ourselves into the ground and I think it would do us both a world of good to be apart for a while. Clear our heads."

Reese felt his shoulders start to tighten back up as he stared at Finch for a moment too long before he responded.

"Sure Finch. You're the boss."

 

Reese fought against a shiver as he felt a trickle of lukewarm sweat skid down his back as he strode down the street.

The world shimmered in the early afternoon heat but he still felt cold. He'd been acting like a fool again letting his feelings for his employer, his goddamn employer, get in the way of the facts.

Fact One: Finch had hired him to do a job.

Fact Two: Finch was completely focused on the numbers and he had no interest in opening himself up for a relationship.

Fact Three: Finch was straight.

Fact Four: Finch must have seen something and given Reese a gentle warning to cease and desist.

Fact Five: Reese would damn well do exactly as he was told from now on.

Reese didn't let his eyes turn to the side as he walked past a corner liquor store but he felt his mouth water and his brain wish for separation.

He might have been a fool but he wasn't an idiot. If Finch needed Reese's assistance and he turned up drunk they would be done for good. No companionable partnership. No more hints of maybe friendship.

And ultimately, no more John.


	5. No Respite

When he finally stumbled through the door of his apartment Reese kicked his shoes off and face planted in the bed almost immediately.  He had been up for nearly 36 hours with only brief naps to help keep him from collapse and Reese had had enough of consciousness for the moment.  

John lay there for several long seconds just inhaling the fresh smell of clean linen and his own sour sweat before he let his eyes slip close and sweet sleep slipped over him gently.  Long quiet hours passed as he lay where he had fallen.  One leg dangled off the bed and as he snuffled awake with a long inhale he could already tell that it as well as the hands that were curled up underneath the pillows had fallen asleep as well.  

John stood up sluggishly, kicking out his leg and clenching his hands to try and regain some feeling in them.  The tall wall of windows gave him a good view of the night sky and he could tell that he had been asleep for a long time.  He must not have missed much though, Finch hadn’t bothered to call him.

The tall man stretched, long and lean, before he strode towards the shower.  It had been a long time since his stay on the streets but he was probably never going to lose his appreciation for beds and hot, private, showers.  

John leaned into the stream letting the steaming water hit him in the face without flinching.  He still reveled in this feeling. The feeling of being fresh and clean.  Well taken care of.  His performance over the past stressful weeks had been subpar.  No matter how hard he tried Reese couldn’t seem to get a handle on this particular Number’s pattern.  They seemed to be striking at random with any number of commonalities between the victims seeming to be completely innocent. 

The Machine kept feeding them number after number and Reese had pushed and pushed as hard as he could using all of the information that Finch provided him with to try and pick out the man most likely to be the next victim.  He’d been 0 for 3 thus far.  

He just had to try harder, Reese thought as he scrubbed shampoo through his hair. After all if he couldn’t figure this out sooner or later Finch would realize how worthless he was.  The man had picked him up off the streets and given him a purpose but Reese had no illusions that he would stay in the man’s employ if he didn’t start showing results. 

The Numbers were what was important to Finch and Reese knew that.  He was just a blunt tool for the older man to use and discard at will.  A used up old dog that didn’t know when to quit was of no use to the man’s mission.  There were any number of people that Finch could use instead of Reese that would work just as well, if not better.  As the years had passed Reese had felt that slow spark of recognition and connection glow and warm towards Finch. 

It wasn’t at all what he had felt for Jessica.  With her he had felt an instant attachment that had burrowed deep into his skin.  Harold had left a deeper impression and John wasn’t sure if how long he’d survive if he was blocked from the man’s life.  Jessica’s death had sent him into a tail spin of alcohol and self-destructive behavior.  The thought of losing Finch left him feeling as though he would self-immolate.  He wouldn’t go for a bottle, he’d go for a gun. 

A sharp beep drags him from his dark thoughts and Reese  opens the glass door and reaches for his phone with a dripping arm.

New Message

New victim.  New Number.  

Scrubbing his hair with a towel one handed Reese taps out a reply before he heads towards the closet to get dressed.

On my way. **  
**

* * *

 Carter wanted a drink, a bubble bath, and maybe a personal masseuse at this point.  She’d been heading home when the call had come in that a new victim had popped up in, surprise surprise, a dirty alley behind a bar.  The press was going to have a field day with this one. The killer wasn’t even waiting a day between murders now. 

She texted Taylor a quick message before she turned her car around and headed towards the latest scene. 

 

Joss pulled up in front of the alley and cursed under breath as she saw the SUV that was already parked nearby.  The BAU hadn’t been much of a bother that day, mostly going over the new evidence that they had collected at the crime scene that morning.  She still didn’t like them there.  Great at their jobs they might be but their social skills could use some improving.  At least the terrible two were getting better about not hanging up on her when they were on the phone.  

 

Speaking of, Carter’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead as she saw Reese propping up a nearby wall and watching the scene in front of him with interest.  He wasn’t dressed in his usual suit though.  He was wearing a ratty undershirt with a flannel billowing over it along with jeans and some beat up looking leather boots.  He looked like a curious construction worker but she still wanted to smack him upside the head.  Joss hopped out of her car and strode over to him after Reese gave a beckoning wave.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?”  Carter’s words were an angry hiss.

 

Reese’s smile was lopsided and small as he handed her a small paper bag and a still steaming coffee. 

 

“We’ve got a little more information for you and I thought you deserved a bit of a boost.”

 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Carter gritted out even as she snatched up the treats that he was offering her. “Word gets around that a man in a suit is lurking around sex offender crime scenes the Agent’s that are on  your  case will hear about it and assume that your little vigilante schtick has gotten even more out of hand and they’ll be crawling all over both our butts.”

 

She let that quiet rant die in the air as she took a deep swig of her coffee.  It had been doctored to her tastes exactly and Joss wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or creeped out that that particular information was well within these two men’s grasps. She eyed it thoughtfully before she took another swallow. She’d be creeped out tomorrow.

 

“What’s the info?”

 

“The murderer is purposefully putting their kills in front of a camera.”

 

“Well we figured that.  All of the murders happen a little too conveniently front and center on the screen.”

 

Reese nodded agreeably before he continued.

 

“The killer’s posting the videos on websites that are dedicated to tracking sexual predators.”

 

“What!?! Where are the videos originating from.”

 

“Internet cafe’s all over the city.  We haven’t been able to find a common customer but my friend’s working on it.  See ya later Boss.”  Reese gave her a sloppy salute before he sloped off and Carter noted the movement behind her as Agent Hotchner ducked beneath the crime scene tape but she took another fortifying swig before she swung to face him.

 

“Friend of yours?”

 

“Informant.  Bit shy around strangers.  So is this one the same as the others?”

 

“Has all of the signs.  It’s worrying that the Unsub is escalating like this.  They’ve been very controlled thus far but if they’re killing again in less than 24 hours than they might be fracturing.”

 

“Or worried that we’re getting close so they’re speeding up their schedule.  If they’ve got a list of men that they want dead and they think we’re getting close no telling what that might push them to.”

 

* * *

 Hotch studied the woman in front of him thoughtfully.  She looked ready to eat nails and spit out bullets at this point.  He had unobtrusively watched the entirety of her conversation with her informant although the man’s face had stayed stubbornly in shadow the entire time.  They were comfortable with each other and the man had seemed almost lackadaisical as he handed her the treats but as soon as he had started to approach the pair the man had noticed Hotchner.

 

The informant’s face had snapped away from Carter’s and turned towards him and the man was gone moments later.  Disappearing into the dark so quickly Hotch was having a hard time figuring out which direction he was heading in.

 

The clothing said construction worker.  The coffee and baked goods from a higher end cafe nearby said businessman.  The alertness and disappearing act said ex-military.  If he had been pushed for his opinion on the man right then and there Hotch thought the profile, slim though it would be, would read something about a man that had been spit out of the military and ended up on the streets before pulling himself together enough to get a menial position as a worker.  

 

“Did your informant have some interesting info for you?” 

 

Carter’s eyes sharpened as she looked up from the coffee in front of her.

 

“Apparently there’s some videos of the murders that are circulating on the internet.”

 

Hotch felt an eyebrow arch.

 

“That is interesting. Any idea about how he would have found that out.”

 

Carter shrugged. 

 

“His info is usually good but pretty sporadic I think he knows a lot of people who know a lot of people type of thing.”

 

Hotch backed down as he saw the twitch of irritation that shivered through the detective as he questioned her.

 

He still needed to gain her trust and alienating her by trying to ferret out her informants wasn’t going to help that process.

 

“You could be right about the escalation, but I we haven’t learned anything new and I can’t imagine we’ve found out much of anything that would make them nervous.  Nothing’s changed, except for the Unsub.”

 

Carter huffed another clump of hair out of her eyes as she gestured with her coffee.

 

 “We’re going to be going over this crime scene for a couple of hours Detective Carter.  Once we’ve done that I think we should be able to give you a decent profile to work off of by tomorrow morning.”

 

Carter laughed for a moment.

 

“I think you mean later today.  All right, I’ll go grab the camera footage from the places that are still open and then I’ll probably call it a night.” She hesitated for a moment. “Unless you’ll need me for something else?”

 

Hotch’s smile was self-deprecating.

 

“Is there a way for me to answer that question without insulting you Detective?”

 

Joss scoffed before she strode past him.

  
“Probably not.” 

 


	6. Profile This!

_Earlier_

Reese was grateful for the hours of sleep he had managed the night before when he received the text from Finch in the wee hours of the morning. His quick text saying that he was on his way had barely been sent when his phone buzzed angrily. Another victim, his murder caught on camera. Another failure. He had understood that from the first time.  What was so different about this one? As Reese scrambled into his clothing he stuffed an ear bud on and started to listen to the low hum of displeasure that Finch seemed to make unconsciously. 

"Finch?"

"It seems we have a bit of a problem here. Not only is the man completely unknown to me he also appears to be free of any of the nasty backgrounds that the other Numbers had in common."

"So, not a rapist?"

"Not a rapist, and NOT a Number! The only thing he seems to have done is rack up a fair number of parking tickets."

Reese froze at the unexpected statement, the Machine had been giving them so many Numbers was it possible that it had missed one?

"What body part was removed this time?"

There was a long pause and Reese felt his forehead furrow at the unusual reticence.

"Finch?"

"Apologies Mr. Reese it seems that the murderer has decided to move onto bigger things."

"Meaning?"

"Castration, Mr. Reese. While he was still alive."

Reese could feel the cold surge of adrenaline at the thought even as he winced.

"Oh. That's a pretty large leap.  Do you think they grabbed the wrong person?"

"I do not.  Whoever is doing this seems to have carefully chosen multiple victims in advance so they will always have a plethora of options. I cannot imagine they would deviate from that list."

 "Although perhaps the most ah disconcerting news this latest death is not the main reason I decided to call you at this early hour.  My research has revealed to me that the security camera videos are actually being posted on a wide variety of Sexual Predator websites.  They are racking up views as well as a wide range of responses, many of them positive."

"Where are they coming from?"

"Unfortunately they seem to be originating from a wide variety of Internet Cafés. I'm trying to track Credit Card numbers but so far haven't had any luck."

"Have you contacted Carter with this information?"  Reese said thoughtfully as he stopped buttoning up his usual white shirt.

"I have not, although she is heading towards the latest crime scene."

Reese quickly shrugged out of the suit pants and the shirt as he started to dig deeper into the ridiculous closet that the apartment had come with.

"Hold off on that, I want to get a closer look and it'll be a good enough excuse for going to see her."

"How so?  We hardly want to garner the attention of the FBI when a simple text will do."

The jeans were a little loose on him, perhaps a little too loose but he would worry about that later, and the shirt was as soft and ratty as he remembered.

"Our usual methods aren't working here Finch.  I think it's time for a new approach."

Finch's voice was mistrustful and made Reese grimace at the lack of faith.

"You have a better idea?"

"I want to get a closer look at the BAU, and I want to see about the proximity of our latest victim and the nearest hotel."

"Surely that could wait for a better time, Mr. Reese."

It couldn't wait, John was jumping out of his skin this was a deviation that meant something he could feel it deep in his gut.  This murder was more personal and he was pretty sure he knew why.

"Was our latest victim married?"

"Yes. Are you thinking that the man might have had an assignation at a nearby hotel?"

"Exactly.'  John ruffled his hair hard to leave the still slightly damp spikes messy and wild.

"Mr. Reese, perhaps you could use a bit of a sabbatical? I'm not sure if your thinking clearly about this."

Mr. Reese. John mouthed mockingly as he threw a flannel shirt over the ensemble and didn't bother buttoning it up. Great now the man was trying to take care of him. Oh yeah he was inches from being told to pack his bags if Finch thought that he wasn't capable of doing his job.  Reese gritted his teeth as he thought about being replaced.  The sweet little lies and stark reasoning for being left behind that were all just sugar coated poison tablets.  He'd be damned if he'd listen to any of it.

"Shock and awe, that's what I like to hear."

"Don't be petty, Mr. Reese."

"Kiss my ass, Mr. Finch." John snapped as he twisted his ear bud out of his ear and tossed it on the floor. The crunch it made as he stepped on it was viscerally satisfying.

His cellphone lit up and began to ring almost immediately but John walked out the door, after grabbing his wallet, without even glancing at it.  He'd pick up some coffee and a Danish or something for Carter.

He might be a dog but he wasn't a moron and he was nobodies bitch. He'd handle this Number and then he was gone.

* * *

  _Early_

Morgan liked to lean on things, walls, tables, people.  So when he slid into the shower and cozied up to Reid's back the younger man smirked and broadened his stance.  Mornings were not Derek's friends and he might be awake but until a shower and a cup of coffee he was basically nonverbal.  The fact that they hadn't managed to get to bed until nearly four in the morning and were now up at eight seemed to just add to the usual grogginess. 

"Baby Boy, I am willin' to pay you to not move." Derek's voice was a little muffled because he had it buried in between Reid's neck and shoulder but he was still perfectly understandable.

Reid's smile was broad and scrunched up his whole face. 

"I was willing to do it for free, but I mean a little extra currency wouldn't hurt."

"S'that so?  What can I do for you love."

Spencer let his head fall back onto Derek's shoulder and bit at his lovers ear. 

"Wash my hair for me?"

Morgan snorted out a laughter as he reached up a hand to wind its way into his lovers hair.

"Anything but that."

"But you'd better hurry. We have to deliver our profile in less than an hour."  Reid turned around a waggled a threatening finger in Morgan's face.

"So no funny business."

Morgan's lips were smiling even when he pressed them into Reid's.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They were nearly late and had to scramble to get dressed in time to make it to the SUV.  Reid wasn't one to wish for miracles but he couldn't help crossing his fingers that his hastily toweled dry hair didn't decide to spark a mutiny and poof off of his head like he'd come in to contact with a live wire.  Morgan, the bastard, was laughing as he ran a mocking hand over his own bald skull as he slid into the drivers seat next to Reid.

* * *

_Now_

When they pulled up to the station several minutes later, nobody was laughing.  They'd managed to pull together a decent profile but Hotch could almost see Carter's disapproving pursed lips that meant she was going to take everything they said under advisement, all while not backing down an inch.  He'd met enough stubborn law enforcement agents over the years that he could see a losing cause when it glared at him. However the detective's partner was coming back in today so maybe they'd have an in with him.

Fusco's file had been a different read than Carter's.  Where she was all professionalism with a streak of steel Fusco seemed to run on imperfect instincts and a spine that gave a little too easily if his paperwork profiling held any truth to them.  Not an ideal helpmeet but hopefully more willing to go with the flow so to speak. 

Hotch had to restrain himself from wiping a hand down his face as he walked into the bullpen and started to pull together the white boards that they had made to help create a timeline of events and connections for this particular UnSub.

The room slowly filled up with men and women in uniform and suits, all of them seemed alert and ready to listen which was no small feat sometimes when it came to a group of people with ruffled feathers about the invasion of their territory.  Carter's hair was once again sleeked back and she looked as though she had managed to get at least a moderate amount of sleep. The man next to her was definitely Fusco.  His own thinning curls were unruly and ill kempt and he kept studying his cellphone like it had the secrets of the universe enclosed on it.  

Probably waiting for texts from the son that had just had his tonsils removed.  He perked up and paid attention though when Hotch cleared his throat.  

"Hello, my name is Aaron Hotchner, I know it's been a long night, a long month, for a lot of you but I believe we have some important information. It should assist you in identifying the person who is committing these murders."

He waved a hand at Morgan who stood up from where he had been slouching against an available table.

"We believe that the UnSub that we are looking for is a young, mid to late twenties woman."

At that the pen erupted in a buzz of noise and one of the uniformed officers asked.

"A woman? A female serial killer?"

Reid jumped in at this point.

"Yes we believe it's a woman.  Although on average only 8 percent of serial killers are women we are confident that this is the case." 

Morgan returned to his previous point as the noise began to dampen a little, especially when Carter sent the room a stern glare that brought most of the muttering to a halt.

"We believe she is white, above average in height, and that at some point in the past she has been violently sexually assaulted."

Rossi spoke up at this point and he started to pace in front of the attentive crowd.

"It's likely that she attempted to go to the police in the past to report her assault and she was not listened to. We believe this is an attempt at vigilantism.  Since the courts gave all of these men a reduced or light sentence she feels that they were not properly punished.  Except for the last victim all of these men were on the sex offender registry.  That's how she picks her targets."

Carter raised a pen after she paused in taking her notes and Hotch nodded at her.

"So why did she pick the last one?  He's got no history of violence or sexual abuse and aside from a few parking tickets he's a model citizen."

"We believe that this one was personal." Prentiss said quietly. "He's either the man that sexually assaulted our UnSub or he did something that reminded her so strongly of him that she briefly lost control. This is the only victim that had his body part removed while he was still alive."

"We should start looking into our last victim, Ben Mear. He is likely to give us the clearest picture of who it is we are looking for. However I believe that this woman is somebody that a lot of you know.  She probably attends hearings held because of sexual abuse on a regular basis and she won't be quiet about it. So please if you can think of anybody that matches our description please let us know.  Thank you for your time." Hotch concluded. 

* * *

Finch shut off the computer screen as the BAU finished up their profile of the serial killer. An interesting group of individuals.  All of them smart and driven.  He could only hope that they would prove more of a help than a hindrance.

Now, perhaps more importantly, he had an errant Reese to reel in.  Whatever had set the man off had hopefully cooled given the ensuing hours.  If it hadn't, well, he'd figure something out to keep the man as close to him as possible.

Finch leaned down and grabbed Bears leash and service vest.

Reese had to stay with him, he couldn't do this without him.

He didn't want to.

 

 

 


	7. Snarl

The hotel was disgusting.

Reese wrinkled his nose as he stepped around a used condom that had been left in the worn down gray carpet.  The hotel was pretty typical of the area, this was not an affluent part of New York and it showed in every crack and stain. Not to mention the smell.

The front desk had been pretty forthcoming when he had sauntered up in his too baggy jeans and ripped shirt.  He pulled his face into a sleazy smile and leaned in close to the unimpressed woman manning the counter.  He could work the aging hooker angle at this point. The nonstop numbers had left his face strained and gaunt in a way that could be mistaken for some sort of drug addiction.  The desperate gleam in his eye could be greed.  She didn't even look up from her cellphone, just thrust a nicotine yellowed finger down the right hallway.

"104.  Mr. Meek must be switching up his world if he hired you."

"Meek? I'm not meeting..."

He could just barely make out the woman's twitching lips as she scanned her Facebook page.

"Nah honey, he's just more into the whips and leather girls.  Meek as a mouse."

John's smile twisted and he eyed the hallway with unfeigned distaste.

"Here's hoping he's not gonna try anything like that on me."

The woman finally looked up from her phone with a nasty grin.

"The man wouldn't have the upper body strength to knead dough, I think you're safe."

John grunted before he strolled towards the door with a faltering gate.

"Oh and keep it down would you. The last one that came through sounded like she was stripping him of vital organs."

John stopped and looked at her with shock.

"Did you check on him?"

"Dude." The woman looked at him with amusement, "He paid for the week."

Of course.

"Whips and leather you said?"

"Well I guess he was switching it up a little with this one too. Same Amazonian body, you know, but this one looked like she could break somebody over her knee and giggle girlishly about the whole thing."

John let his eyes flutter closed before he turned back down the hallway towards the door.

"Fantastic."

The door opened easily, the killer must have left the door unlocked.  If she had even been here. She.  That was interesting.  If it was a woman who was doing the killing that meant something pretty nasty. He'd been working the numbers long enough to not be too surprised if it was a female. Men might be brutal but women could be sadistic. The only issue he had with that particular problem was that he and Finch had been receiving Number after Number, all of them male.  There was always a chance that Mr. Mears had actually wandered over to the bar after his latest session and met his murderer there he supposed.

It would make a lot of sense, and it would explain how nobody had seen anything at the hotel.  If the room was close enough to the front desk for screams to be heard, than it was close enough that the murderer would need to worry about being seen. Plus, the killer had to have committed the murder and the castration in front of the cameras.

Reese slid into the room with a grimace as he wiped a sticky hand off on the bottom of his flannel shirt. 

The room had been ripped apart.  The bed had been dragged several feet from the wall, the mattress dangled off of the frame, and the sickly sweet scent of rotten meat made him gag and stumble.

She was sprawled on the squalid recliner that had been shoved into a corner decked out in a pair of skin tight leather pants and not much else.

Her skin was moving in slow waves as thousands of maggots squirmed underneath her skin. 

Reese's hand slid up to his ear unconsciously before dropping back to his side. 

* * *

The...lady, at the front desk eyed Morgan suspiciously as she popped her gum. An impressive feat considering how many teeth she didn't have.

The phone call had been unexpected.  An anonymous call from a nearby payphone had been enough to bring the entire BAU team sans Jennifer who was still struggling to hold back the wolves of the press.  The room that Mr. Mears had been visiting apparently contained the very dead body of a dominatrix.  End conversation.

The forensics team was going over the room even as a coroner zipped what was left of the woman into a bag that would hopefully contain any leaks. Derek was more than happy to let them deal with that bit of nastiness.

He'd gone over the room with the rest of his teammate and the conclusion was as close to unanimous as it ever was.

Their UnSub had probably gone after Mr. Mears for his affair and stepped into a full on scene that she wasn't expecting.  The reaction had been beyond extreme. The Dominatrix had been knocked unconscious with a vicious blow from a digital clock, shoved into the chair, and then split from the top of her pubic bone all the way to her collarbone.

Mr. Mears had been dragged out of the room, probably in shock, and led into the alley for his public castration and execution.

The only person who could have seen or heard anything was sitting in front of him with her fingers clutched to her phone hard enough to turn them white.

"I didn't see anything. Swear to God."

"Did you know Mr. Mears?" 

"Sure, he's pretty much a regular.  Likes." The woman, Sheryl her nametag read, swallowed hard and looked down again.  "Liked to get beat up by pretty women every couple of months."

"Did you know anything about his Domme?"

"What?" Her face crinkled in confusion as she met his face.

"The woman that we found. Was she familiar to you?"

"No. She was new.  I...I thought they'd taken the back exit.  He'd paid through the week, and he didn't like to be disturbed." The phone clattered to the desk as she brought both clenched fists up to her lips and her shoulders shook hard.

"He paid through the week."

Morgan thought about putting a hand on her shoulder but Sheryl shook herself hard and then breathed out hard as she regained control.

"Mr. Mear was a real nice guy to me.  Never had a bad word to say about anybody and he was always so excited when he came in for his week of fun.  Said it was his longest business trip of the year."

"Any idea who could have called the police?  There's still a couple days left in the week so it wasn't you?"

Sheryl's eyes widened in recognition and Morgan leaned in closer.

"You remember something?"

"Oh my God. That poor man must have run screaming out the back."

"Man?"

"Oh yeah, tall, dark, and slinky.  Said Mr. Mear had set up an appointment with him."

Morgan raised an eyebrow at that.

"Was that guy a regular?"

"No way.  First guy I'd seen head that way.  He seemed pretty desperate though, probably his first time.  I just thought Mr. Mear was trying to explore uh roads untraveled so to speak with the Amazon and then this guy coming in."

"Do you think you could head down to the police station and talk to somebody about getting us a sketch of this guy."

Sheryl frowned at him and her face seemed to lock down.

"Why would I do that.  He didn't do anything."

"We just want to ask him some questions."

Sheryl snorted.

"Yeah right.  You'll find this guy and either arrest him for prostitution or for a murder just so you can cover your ass.  Forget it."

"Deliberately withholding evidence from the FBI is a crime."

"I didn't get that good a look at him. Late forties, early fifties and he'd have been a silver fox if he gained about twenty pounds and lost the skull look."

"Skull. Look."

"Yeah, looked like he hadn't slept in weeks."

"I'd really like that sketch, Ms. Sheryl."

Sheryl leaned back and lit up a cigarette as she looked at him.

"And I'd like to win the goddamn lottery, that's all I've got for you man.  It's all a bit of a blur. Long day, you understand."

* * *

She kept running her hands through her hair.  The buzz cut left her feeling strangely light, and she kept tossing her head to throw back nonexistent hair.  She felt like a new person without it though.  That cluster fuck of a kill was behind her and she didn't need to worry about it anymore.  Maybe everything hadn't gone according to plan but it had all worked out.

The list was getting progressively shorter and she just knew that soon she'd be free of the mess.

Long slender fingers slid through her hair and up the back of her head before clenching down hard and wrenching her head back.

"You moron!"

Her eyes were running and she batted gently at the hand trying to dislodge the tearing fingers.

"What did you think you were doing?"

"I killed him!" She bleated. 'I killed him just like you said."

"And what?" The other woman's free hand picked up a remote and turned on the television to reveal photographs of the hotel where she had grabbed Mears. "You decided double the pleasure double the fun and you killed his rent a ho too?"

"I had to. Please, I had to. She saw my face."

The clenching hand shoved hard and she fell to the ground.

"Stupid. Bitch."

"I'm sorry!  I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

The slickering sound of a belt made her cringe and whine but she didn't move.

"Not yet you're not."


	8. Make It Up

John tried to bury his face as deeply as he could into the steam swirling up from his dark coffee. Inhaling deeply and trying to get the scent of rotting flesh, sickly sweet and too familiar, out of his nose.  The memory lingered though and wafted through his mind again and again long after he had washed it away. The seat across from him was filled with enough holes in the vinyl that he could hear the silky fabric of Finch's suit catch lightly on the cheap plastic as the older man slid into it. 

John refused to meet his employers eyes even as his peripheral caught the flash of the bright maroon of his tie.  Finch's fingers trembled as he he wound them through the beads of condensation on the plastic sides of his iced tea.  When John finally let his eyes flash up to Harold's face he couldn't hold back a wince of sympathy. He was pale and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened even further since Reese had last seen him.

"I feel." Finch said very quietly. "That this particular case has somewhat strained our resources and tempers."

One of Finch's hands disappeared briefly into a pocket and returned with a lightly clenched fist that dropped to the table with a metallic click.  When he withdrew his hand he left a new small ear piece onto the peeling finish of the table.

John eyed it as though it was a venomous snake.  His fingers were cramping and turning white as he clutched his coffee and the heat left his too cool fingers feeling a little less cramped. The air conditioning in this dark little diner seemed to be going full blast and John couldn't completely restrain the shudder that went through his body as the cold air seemed to cut through the flannel button up that he was huddled in.

When he finally reached for the ear piece John couldn't restrain his flinch when Harold snapped his hand out and slammed his wrist down onto the table between them.  The sharp slap of his hand hitting the table should have brought heads around but the half-asleep group that was currently in the diner at nearly three in the morning didn't even turn their heads.

"When this is finished Mister Reese." Finch's pale anxiety had completely disappeared in the space of an instant. He invaded John's space and met his eyes with more than a hint of challenge in his own pale eyes. "We will be finished as well."

John could feel the way he paled and another shiver wracked his body as he tugged futilely at the iron grip that dug and tore at the delicate tendons on his wrist.

Finch stood up slowly when he finally released Reese's wrist leaving it already darkening with bruises and a sullenly bleeding cut where a ragged nail had caught against pale skin.

The older man's face twisted into a snarl that looked vicious and jarring on the usually placidly pleasant face.  John didn't understand what was going on as he shivered and shook in his seat feeling an uncharacteristic frisson of fear shake through him.

"Incompetence and disobedience are two characteristics I really can't tolerate in my employees Mr. Reese."

Finch carefully straightened the buttons on the sleeves of his suit as he stared down at John who cowered in confused shock and he couldn't understand. Why wasn't he fighting back? Something was wrong. 

Everything was wrong.

John felt the cold and the fear coalescing into shuddering shakes that left him nauseated and sweating.

Finch studied him for a long moment and his features wavered and melted and John clutched the table in front of him trying to stay steady as the world began to spin. 

"John."  

His name was said softly and was at complete odds with the expression on Finch's face and John felt his belly heave.

Finch leaned in close seeming to be completely recovered from his spine injury and Reese didn't understand.  

Finch's mouth brushed his ear and John shuddered again as the older man whispered in his ear.

"John, you need to wake up!"

Reese heaved as he erupted from where he had collapsed on his bed and scrambled frantically away from the looming presence that hovered over his prone form. The sudden movement made his stomach clench tight and he gagged trying desperately to keep from vomiting.  

* * *

Finch was very nearly wringing his hands as he tried to keep to the very edge of the bed that he was seated on.

John's continued radio silence had left him nearly frantic and after he had gathered the newest information about the latest Numbers from the Machine and had quickly leashed Bear he had hurried over to John's apartment.

Tentative and then more hearty knocks on the door had garnered him no response and Finch had wobbled briefly in his resolve before unlocking the door with the key that he had made before he had given John the apartment. 

He slipped into the apartment with a feeling of growing apprehension as he saw the still body that was collapsed on the bed.  John's almost unprovoked attacked had left Finch confused and a little hurt.  But as he recalled the dramatic weight loss and the way Reese had been running himself ragged as he tried futilely to find the pattern in the murders Finch became more and more worried about the strangely mercurial moods of his usually calm partner. 

All of his fears are confirmed as he stumps up to Reese's bed and notices the pale skin and too slow breathing that is rasping out of the younger mans chest. A cautious hand to his forehead confirms that John has a raging fever and is probably closer to unconscious than asleep because he doesn't even twitch when Finch touches him delicately.

A quick phone call and a quiet pleading murmur has Dr. Tillman hurrying over without too many questions being asked and Finch can only wait for help to arrive as he studies the man in front of him.

John had always been a beautiful man, his lean build and sharp features a contrast to his small smiles and slight paunch. Any slight excess weight that he had managed to build up in the years that they had worked together was melted away and he seemed a transparent shadow of his former self. 

As he watches John body begins to shake and the usually painfully stoic man begins to whimper restlessly.  One of his hands jerks hard as though it is trying to move but it doesn't go anywhere. Soon he is making more and more noise and Finch is nearly frantic as he tries to decide what to do.

It doesn't seem to be a seizure though, which Finch can only be grateful for.  So a bad dream or hallucination perhaps?

Finch leans forward and after a hesitant moment places a gentle hand on John's flannel covered shoulder. Flannel, in 100 degree plus heat!  But he can't take it off, can't risk harming John.  So a gentle shake on his partners shoulder is all that he feels he can do.

John's response is only a fearful keen as his hands fist into the fabric of his bed as though trying to weather stormy seas.

Finch bites his lip and glances hopelessly at the door. Ten minutes is not enough time for Dr. Tillman to have made it here. No matter how well paid the taxi driver.  Finch was on his own for the moment and he had no idea what his next course of action should be. 

Ever so carefully Harold finally leaned forward and quietly spoke John's name. Trying to be gentle, doing everything he could think of to be as nonthreatening as possible.  The soft word has John stilling for a long moment as though straining to hear something in the distance and Finch finally gives in to a helpless urge.  Leaning forward, close enough that he can feel his lips brush the soft crevices of John's ear Finch whispers again.

"John, it's time to wake up now."


End file.
